


saint patrick (you're a miracle)

by shadowhunterwithasouffle



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Kisses, little bit of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 08:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8883661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowhunterwithasouffle/pseuds/shadowhunterwithasouffle
Summary: Rachel's slightly drowsy smile is brighter than all the specks of sunshine in the room combined. If Chloe stared too long, she might go blind.But she wouldn't mind.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [St. Patrick](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/248773) by PVRIS. 



Rachel gets up and shuts the cracked window, leaving Chloe’s back frigid and paralyzed against the early morning glow shining red, white, and blue through frosty panes.

She doesn’t fully wake up, however; doesn’t move, because she knows Rachel will be back, snuggled against her on her bed like a blanket of human warmth and unbridled affection. Plus, she’s still terribly sleepy, her eyes stinging a little behind the darkness of her eyelids, so moving wouldn’t be in her best interest anyhow.

Rachel’s stomach hits her spine and Chloe sighs. Warm again.

“Too damn cold out. I don’t see how you Oregon people deal with it,” comes Rachel’s groggy voice, draping her right arm slightly over Chloe’s side, her fingers wiggling to grasp for her hand, barely brushing the fabric of Chloe’s tank. With another sigh and half a groan, Chloe takes her hand from its warm burrow under her head, lets herself feel each finger as it interlocks with Rachel’s soft skin. There it is – that feeling that feels more than home than the own house surrounding her ever has, something between being wrapped in a wool blanket and doing cartwheels on the beach. Safe, but also wild. Energy radiates from Rachel across Chloe’s body, saying _get up get up get up_ but also _ten more minutes_.

Both options sound nice, but Chloe prefers the latter. A third sigh as she uses their new attachment to pull herself closer, white cotton against the black polyester blend of Rachel’s long sleeve shirt; she can feel the rise and fall of Rachel’s stomach as she breathes, but the vibrations of her heartbeat seem far away. “Eh. You get used to it. California has made you soft, Rachel.”

“Oh, shuddup.” Chloe’s feels a jolt – Rachel pushed her away a little – but her girlfriend’s soft giggle forecloses any questions she might have asked about the gesture. Rachel, ever the jokester. “And Arcadia Bay has made you stony. Heh, kidding.”

“But I sure as hell have a right to be, don’t I?” Chloe squeezes her eyes tighter – stony. That would be a good way to describe herself, but. She remembers last night, the same scarring nightmare about her father’s death that was recurring ever since she was fourteen, laying there shell-shocked until the onslaught of tears, texting her _please come over_ with shaking fingers, Rachel vaulting through the window at one am like she was on her way to save the planet, holding Chloe while she sobbed and wailed and screamed _I miss him I miss him I miss him, why does the world hate me, Rachel it hurts and I know you can’t fix it but I’m begging you to,_ feeling nauseous and feeling that storm of thoughts inside her head that had went from a gale to a hurricane in three seconds flat.

Rachel _shhhing_ her and thumbing her pale palms and kissing her temple and telling her the story of how they first met until she fell asleep.

Perhaps she was soft instead, deep down.

“…Thanks for staying with me. Made me feel a lot better.”

“Of course, Chlo.” Rachel interlocks their fingers tighter, and only then does Chloe let her eyes drift open. The world seems too bright at first, all miniscule particles of light intermingling with dust, but she turns on her other side, to face Rachel, her slightly drowsy smile brighter than all the specks of sunshine in the room combined. If she stared too long, she might go blind.

But she wouldn’t mind.

Their legs intertwine, and Chloe’s heart skips a beat as Rachel’s gaze drags itself slowly to her lips. And it seems in that next instant they are kissing, and Rachel smells like dirty grass and cheap perfume, two scents that would never go together if it weren’t for the honey scent of Rachel’s hair, and Chloe’s eyes are closing, and she feels like she’s in a heaven that’s made of electricity every time their lips meet and the roundedness of Rachel’s thumb snakes her way up her tattoo and rubs at her collarbone, and even if in all technicalities Chloe can’t breathe it’s as if she’s inhaling the freshest air she’s had in her life and if she didn’t love Rachel before then she does now because when she’s falling into depths of the ocean Rachel is her tethered anchor.

But the rope snaps, and Chloe shudders, her eyes staring at the twin blushes of Rachel’s cheeks.

“Don’t leave. Ever. Promise?” Words whispered against her lips as if the blonde will process them faster. It’s less like a demand and more like she’s terrified. The terror that doesn’t ignite her nerves, but chills them, makes her feel as cold as the icicles twinkling in the sun outside.

In response, another kiss. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“…You’re an angel, Rachel.” Relief floods Chloe’s veins, waiting for her response –

– her laugh is hesitant, but the gentle wrinkle of her nose in her grin is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


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